WARNING: This story is about irreverent attitudes towards adultery. EG
When does a married guy feel it's time to have an affair? That information ought to be published so women could know, thought Vicky Duvall. Knowing something about guys she thought perhaps a few never entertained such a thought while others perhaps began thinking about it within a year after their wedding. But what about the bulk of men?
Who knows what guys really think? If they were not talking or focused on TV sport then it was a sure bet they were thinking.
Vicky had been unsettled for some time. Frank was drinking too much and often failed to complete in bed and the two kids were no longer dependent on her. So what else did she have left to think about outside of her job and her friends? Her friends were often talking about women they suspected of having affairs.
One mostly involved in that scuttle bug, Bette Sutton, reputedly had a long affair with Freddie Tanner, CEO of the city council before his untimely death when hit between the eyes at close range by a golf ball. Vicky thought perhaps Valerie Tanner had arranged that to happen but that was just an irrational thought because the guy who'd sliced his shot of the tee was in a group of Korean businessmen touring the country. He ran from the course, never to be heard of again until the police confirmed he was back in Korea. He was not pursued because it became clear it was an accidental death, and so ruled later by the coroner.
So do you die if you have an affair? Vicky hoped not because she intended having one.
Okay, but with whom?
Vicky eyed the paper delivery boy cycling towards her.
God no, she'd be run out of town. He was a juvenile.
His father then? Pat Gatlin weighed 200lbs. With all that blubber he'd probably unintentionally asphyxiate her in the middle of her orgasm. Does one know when they're the middle of an orgasm? Vicky knew she'd never pondered that question before, ever. Well there had to be a middle because an orgasm had a beginning and an end. Now where was she? Oh yeah.
Making coffee Vicky realized it would be difficult having an affair. It had to be someone not known to her family and friends otherwise word would get out. Vicky Duvall is having it off with... she could think of a dozen possibilities. Her friends and family would gape, having assumed she would be the most unlikely fornicator around; that is if people actually make such assumptions. Well they would do so once her name was curdling everyone's lips. God her mother would go beyond curdling her lips and vomit.
Well Vicky liked to fuck and had the impression she was pretty good at it. Frank's inability to finish off consistently probably had her a little off-key but a good guy who knew how to use it would soon have her tuned up. Her toes wriggled involuntarily.
She took coffee into Frank who smelt of stale beer. Perhaps she could place him into a health farm for rejuvenation. He'd be dried out, free of beer addiction and would return to waking each morning with an erection. Oooh, could she handle that. Yes she could, with a very ready hand orchestrating her lips.
After careful deliberation, Vicky picked her potential victim, er, potential lover.
Charlie West.
There were seven other people who worked in the office processing small engine-related insurance claims to finality. Stiff-faced Carl who was sixty with negligible sex appeal was the manager. Owen lived with a pasty-faced guy as one would expect a guy named Owen to do and then there was Charlie plus Gloria, Eve and Shirley who didn't count, unless she planned to have a gal-on-gal encounter, which she didn't.
So Charlie West it would be.
Vicky took to wearing older bras to work. They were tight on her. A couple of times at the water cooler she managed to draw a breast over the arm of Charlie's suit jacket. All that did was to draw apologies from him for bumping her. He was such a gentleman.
Charlie was the same age as Vicky, thirty-eight, confirmed when she read his file. He was married to Maria, a part Italian. Well Italian women reputedly went at it well before they became too fat. Maria would have married Charlie after testing he could keep his end up. Well as she'd heard Charlie say that Maria was putting on weight and the three kids were tiring her out. Oh hello! Is mommy not much interested in sex Charlie? Perhaps sweet Vicky who's only just a little chubby could put something under you?
If only friendly adults could converse at that level!
Vicky and Charlie got along just fine, being the two friendliest people in the office. They often lunched together. Three times recently Vicky had managed to get a knee between Charlie's knees because the tables in the lunchroom were very narrow. Each time he'd looked under the table and had seen Vicky's dress drawn up over her knees and had said, red-faced, "Oh sorry Vicky. We've bumped again."
God if only he had reason to change the 'b' in bumped to an 'h'. Vicky had to stop kneeing him afraid it would draw attention from people who watch for such things. Besides, if she and Charlie were to fuck she'd prefer him thinking it was his idea.
In desperation Vicky decided on a frontal assault. It bothered her that nothing she'd ever heard or read about people having affairs had indicated it was hard work setting it up.
She prepared to leave for work next morning all fired up. She'd show Charlie! But as soon as she reached her car she hurried back to the bedroom to put on panties. Astonishing as it may seem she'd felt completely naked when opening the car door.
Drat.
That evening she didn't put her panties in the wash as usual. Vicky went to work early next day, removed them from her handbag and sniffed. Yea! Some aroma had survived. She placed them in Charlie's top drawer and slunk back to her desk and waited.
She heard people getting out of the elevator and froze. Ohmigod, what if Charlie came in first and saw she was the only person in the room and then opened his top drawer?
She'd die!
Shirley and Eve walked in grumbling about the price of tomatoes. Behind them came Gloria adjusting her bra to get those heavy-hangers more comfortably seated poor girl. Another elevator stopped at their level and in entered Carl and Charlie talking about business news they'd watched on early morning TV.
Then Owen arrived and said good morning to Charlie. Vicky was glad about that because in the way male minds work Owen would have been Charlie's prime suspect.
Vicky turned her back on Charlie and using her make-up mirror pretended to be refreshing her lipstick. In the mirror she watched him open the drawer and freeze and then look around. Vicky couldn't see what other people were doing but obviously Charlie was looking around to see who was looking at him and would thereby give the game away.
But Charlie's frown suggested no one appeared to be the suspect. He then bunched up the fabric and lifted it to his face and sniffed.
Vicky almost screamed into an orgasm. Oh now excruciatingly sexy. Her head spun and her face burned.
She snapped her bag shut, fluffed up her hair and turned out just in time to see Charlie drop the apparently non-offensive article into his trash bin. She smiled at Charlie to give herself away but then she saw Shirley smile at him and then Gloria the cow chose that moment to walk past him on the way to the photocopier and say, "Off to a good start Charlie?"
God those two cows. Who did they think they were... competition?
Charlie then looked directly at Vicky and she decided to wink but at that very second Carl yelled, "Got a second Charlie?' and Charlie was turning away as the wink delivered its now impotent sexy message.
Charlie sat facing Gloria at lunch, eying her massive chest more or less discreetly. Vicky groaned and Owen asked kindly was something wrong. Perhaps he could rub her back.
What a fucking disaster Vicky thought. She gritted a no thank you response to Owen who looked rather disappointed. God was he bi?
Carl came in and called for two volunteers to work an hour late doing a mailing.
"Thanks Charlie and Gloria."
Vicky couldn't believe it. Charlie had raised his hand but Gloria hadn't.
Gloria's protest, "But I didn't..." tailed off because Carl had hurried off.
Vicky delayed her departure that afternoon until Charlie and Gloria were in Carl's office being briefed. She dug the perfectly good pair of knickers from the bottom of Charlie's half-filled trash bin and left unnoticed. Why waste money?
The next afternoon during mid-afternoon coffee break Vicky found herself alone with Charlie and said, "I'll kill you if you breathe a word of this. How was it I found a pair of my panties in your trash bin?"
"Your panties. Ohmigod Vicky, I was hoping they were yours. I couldn't have..."
That cow Gloria walked in and that was conversation over.
Vicky left the lunchroom seething. She thought, only fleetingly, about poisoning Gloria. She spent a little longer thinking about throwing Charlie over his desk and unzipping him. She then decided to give up. Perhaps she should ask if Gloria were interest in athletics with her, er in the bedroom.
Oh yeah? Gloria probably weighed about 180 and that was only her boobs.
Vicky shook her head. She really ought to refocus and think straight again.
She checked her emails and immediately had a hot-flush, just a one-off. The email from Charlie said, 'Vikki what about a drink after work Thursday? Just you and me?'
God they had worked together ten years and still he didn't know how to spell her name. She replied Charlie but changed that to Charly. 'Charly, a wonderful idea. Silicone your zip.'
Ohmigod, what was she thinking she thought as she erased that last sentence.
